


Bloom

by mermaiddrunk



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaiddrunk/pseuds/mermaiddrunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Significant moments in Aurora's life over a series of years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloom

Aurora was seventeen and a half when Phillip broke her heart.

Or at least, she thought he did. “It’s not you,” he said, with a gentle kiss on her hand before getting on his trusty steed named Frank. “It’s me. _I'm_ just not happy here. I need to go find myself.” It was silly phrase if she’d ever heard one. As if he’d been careless and lost himself somewhere out there.

She suspected it would happen, of course. It wasn’t true love after all. That much Thistlewit had admitted one night, when she was drunk off honeyberry wine and flitting about Aurora’s head like a lame mosquito. “He kissed you first, you know,” she had said in a loud whisper that suggested it was supposed to be a secret. “He planted those lips of his right on your rose-red ones and still, you never woke. True love.” She sighed wistfully and laid a tiny hand against Aurora’s cheek. “I suppose some things just aren’t meant to be.”

 But it didn’t matter that he couldn’t break the curse. It may not have been true love, but it was nice, and Aurora had imagined they might have a nice wedding and live a nice life. 

Maleficent laughed when Aurora told her that, even as she wrapped Aurora up in those big safe wings, and placed a kiss on her soft golden head, she laughed and said, “Well, child why would you want a _nice_ life anyway?”

“I’m no child,” Aurora said, pouting like a child as she did so.

“No,” Maleficent replied, reaching out a long finger to wipe at the tear on Aurora’s cheek. “You are a queen.”

She nodded and smiled and tried to forget about her wandering prince, and Thistlewit's damning words.

**~**

Aurora was eighteen when The Rajah from the East arrived in The Moors.

Maleficent was fascinated with her, who was also him, depending on the moon and the season. With his long beard and gold rings or straight black hair that fell to her waist, her bright green eyes, always shining with humour.

“What do you and The Rajah speak about, on your long walks?” Aurora asked one evening when it was just the two of them. When Diaval was off chasing mice and The Rajah was off somewhere, doing whatever rajahs did and Aurora looked up at her fairy godmother who was also her best friend. Maleficent shrugged and smiled a smile Aurora had never seen before. “He tells me about the places he’s been, about the moors in his lands. Except they are called deserts and the creatures there are hardy and tough. He tells me about great bodies of water, like giant lakes. He calls them oceans.” She stroked Aurora’s sunshine-gold hair as she spoke, and smiled that faraway smile. “Sometimes she sings.”

  _Singing_ , Aurora thought. She would have sung all night if Maleficent had wanted, but Maleficent never asked for her songs when The Rajah was around. And he seemed to be always around.

 “I don’t like him,” she confessed evening, as she was falling asleep in the bough of a great camphor tree.

“Who?” Maleficent stood on a branch just above, wings spread out far and wide, catching the moonlight with her feathers.

“The Rajah,” Aurora said, wondering where this admission came from, wondering at the strange knot of agitation which formed when speaking his name.

“Nonsense,” Maleficent contracted her wings slightly, creating a gentle breeze over Aurora in the muggy night. “You like everyone.”

“Not her.”

And Maleficent grew still. “Why?” she asked in a soft voice.

“I don’t know,” answered Aurora, closing her eyes.

It was the first lie she ever told.

**~**

Aurora was nineteen when Maleficent went away.

“ _I_ should go,” Aurora said, her arms wrapped tightly around Maleficent's waist as if holding her there with a hug would be enough to keep her there forever.

“You’re the queen,” Maleficent answered, swaying gently into the hug. She’d become so much better at hugging, Aurora thought, remembering how stiff and uncomfortable she had been in the beginning. “Besides, you don’t want to go.” Maleficent pulled back and looked at Aurora searchingly. “Do you?”

“No,” Aurora admitted, not understanding why anyone would want to leave The Moors. “This is my home. I’m so very happy here.”

“As am I. But the Greenwings have said that there is trouble in the northern lands and beyond. As your emissary, I should bring the message of peace. It is the least can do.”

Aurora knew that Maleficent felt guilt for the years she had spent fostering the war. She knew Maleficent felt responsible for the rest of the fairy kingdoms, who were as beleaguered as theirs had been.  

And so she only hugged tighter and said, “I shall miss you.”

“What’s a year?” Maleficent said gaily, but the tears in her eyes betrayed her.

“You’ll come back?” Aurora asked. “Back to us?” What she wanted to ask was, _B_ _ack to me?_ But somehow it felt selfish, and Aurora was not selfish. Though Maleficent seemed to understand, and she placed two fingers against her lips and then against Aurora’s and said “I promise.”

Aurora took a step back and smiled, even though her tears. “Goodbye, godmother,” she called out and Maleficent laughed, because Aurora hadn’t called her that in years.

“Goodbye, Beastie.”

And then she was off, flying into the clouds, like Phillip on his horse, and Aurora thought: _This_. This is what a broken heart feels like.

**~**

Aurora was almost (but not quite) twenty-one when Diaval said things he should not have.

It was a golden afternoon. The crow was with her. He would fly in sometimes, bringing news of Maleficent and of her victories. “She helped with the peace treaty in the Grasslands,” he would say, or, “she talked the human king in the Yellow Mountain out of war with the Troll people.” And Aurora would smile and swallow back tears because she was proud, _fiercely_ proud of her fairy, whose capacity for love and goodness was greater than Maleficent would ever admit. And still, every time, she heard wings in the blue sky, Aurora would look up, filled with hope. But it was always Diaval. Only Diaval.

On that golden afternoon, two days before her twenty-first year, he flew in and announced, “She’s coming back soon. She’s coming back to stay.” And Aurora, who had dreamt of this moment for many months, suddenly became still and felt strangely ill. 

“Are you certain?” she asked Diaval, who was crouched next to her, skipping pebbles across the heliotrope lake. 

“Certainly certain,” he replied. “Now that the business with the Marshers is all done, she can finally come home.” And he turned to her then and frowned curiously. “My queen, do you…” he scooted closer to her, “Do you not want Maleficent to return?”

“Of course I do,” Aurora yelped and stood up, rustling the leaves around the hem of her dress. “Only-”

“Yes?”

“Only I am also afraid.”

Diaval's frown deepened. “Of Maleficent?”

“No.” She shook her head, and those pretty yellow curls bounced around her shoulders like daffodil petals. “No, never of Maleficent.”

“Of what then?” He came close to her and took her hands in his rough, calloused ones. There were tiny feathers on his palms.

“I don’t know,” Aurora said softly.

And Diaval grew quiet in that way he sometimes did. “Aurora?” he began tentatively, in a voice he only ever used when he was about to suggest something to Maleficent he knew she wouldn’t like.

“Yes, Diaval?”

“You remember, the curse?”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled, because she _always_ smiled to temper her exasperation. “Of course, Diaval.”

“Well, you know how it could only be broken by true love’s kiss?”

“Yes.”

“And how, when Maleficent kissed you, she broke the spell?”

“Yes. Because Maleficent’s love for me was true and pure.” And as she said it, her heart ached a little, the fragments of it that remained.

“Well,” the crow skipped a pebble right across the water, one, two, three, four hops and then it sank into the clear rainbow depths. “Have you ever considered that Maleficent is not only your true love, she’s also your Prince?”

Aurora laughed sweetly. “Maleficent’s not a prince, silly! She’s a fairy. She’s my fairy. She’s-” She stopped suddenly and her pretty face crumpled in confusion. “Oh. _Oh_ , you mean to say-”

Diaval offered her a pitying look and then shuddered. “I-I have to go. She’s calling me back.”

“Wait!” But even as Aurora reached out for him, the man shifted into a bird. “Wait!” she called out as his wings soared up towards the sun. “What does this mean?!”

His answer never came.

**~**

Aurora was still not-quite twenty-one when she realised that Thistlewit was right, but also wrong.

There was a great feast on the day preceding Aurora’s birthday. All of the creatures in The Moor gathered in celebration, while Aurora sat on her throne of honeysuckle and vines, waiting, wishing for sound of those heavy wings.

And then she finally heard them, and the dipping sun was, for a moment, blotted out of the sky by the figure descending to the ground.

Behind the figure, a great black pelican flew, with a heavy throat pouch and a sullen expression.

“Maleficent!” The moor-folk cried out in jubilation and reverie. “Maleficent!” And the fairy smiled at their adoration.  “Yes, yes, hello!”

She landed with a graceful thud, while the pelican crash landed clumsily, and waddled off into the trees.

Maleficent looked no different, she walked and talked no different. So why then, did Aurora _feel_ so different watching her approach?  Aurora stood, then when her knees felt weak considered sitting again, and finally decided, it would be best to receive Maleficent standing.

Maleficent smiled when she saw her. A smile that transformed her terrible beauty into something precious and dear.

“Hello, Beastie.” There was a look in her eye. A familiar gleam that twisted at Aurora’s heart, which had been broken for months and months and seemed to fit back together as if it was never wounded at all.

“Hello Maleficent.” She too smiled, a smile so bright that the sun lowered itself in shame and hid behind the far off hills. And then she was running, down the steps, and into her fairy’s open arms.

The kiss was meant to be warm and friendly. A peck against that sharp cheek, like she had done a thousand times before, despite Maleficent’s weak objections. But somehow her lips found Maleficent’s and they pressed together.

A kiss. A real kiss. Longer than any she’d shared with Phillip. And when she pulled back, that gleam of amusement, ever present in Maleficent’s eyes was replaced with something else, something that made Aurora’s tummy knot up and her newly recovered heart race.

“My Queen, you’re red as a tomato!” Flittle’s voice rang through the air. “Isn’t she red, Knotgrass? Just like a tomato!”

 All eyes had turned to her, as the moor-folk stopped what they were doing, to observe the reunion of their queen and their saviour, who was once their nightmare. “Am I?” Aurora’s palms went up to her cheeks. They were warm. “I suppose I am.”

And Maleficent smiled then. A fond smile. “Too much sun, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Aurora whispered, looking up at her fairy. “Yes, perhaps.” Neither of them mentioned the fact that it was near dark.

“Why has the music stopped?” Knotgrass yelled as she zipped through the trees, pulling Flittle away from the pair. “Well? Play on! We have double cause for celebration!”

“You came back!” Aurora said breathlessly, taking Maleficent’s hand and leading her towards the throne.

“Of course I did.”

“I thought-” she said, putting her palm over her heart, as if protecting it. But suddenly she was afraid to tell Maleficent what she thought. And it was new. This shyness. _Your prince._ Diaval's voice flitted around her head in a halo of words. _Your true love._

And so instead, she said, “I do love this song,” when the mud-bellies began strumming a tune on a lute.

“There was a musician in the Summer Isles. You would have adored his playing. I wanted to steal him away and bring him back.” Maleficent chuckled. “But I didn’t think you would appreciate a captor as a gift.”

Aurora’s eyes lit up as the thought just occurred to her, “Have you brought me presents?”

“You’re too old for presents!”

“One is never too old for presents! Besides, it’s my birthday, or it will be. At midnight.”

Maleficent feigned surprise. “Surely not! It was your birthday last year. I remember because the three idiots made you that hideous dress.”

“Be nice,” Aurora giggled. Though it was hideous. Some ghastly colour between blue and pink, as if they pixies couldn’t make up their minds. "Anyway, birthdays tend to be an annual thing.”

“Hmm,” Maleficent tapped her chin pensively. “Well in that case I suppose I must produce a present.”

“You don’t have to,” Aurora shook her head. “I was only teasing.” Though she _did_ want something from Maleficent, she just couldn't quite figure out what it was.

“No, no,” Maleficent replied shortly. “Come with me.”

“Where are we-” Aurora blindly followed her. “What about the celebration?”

“Oh they’ll still be here when we get back.”

They walked deep into the moors, past the yapping trees and over sweet-water brooks, over the pillow hills until they came to a cave Aurora had never seen before. And she was certain she’d mapped out every inch of queendom.

“Is my present here?” Aurora asked, craning her head about in the semi-darkness.

“It is indeed. Diaval!”

The fat black pelican stepped into the silvery moonlight light, and opened his great beak. Inside, was handful of dark, musky dirt, and in the centre a single bloom. Fragile, pearly and white, with pale pink edges. The most beautiful flower she had ever seen.

"Oh my!" Aurora exclaimed.  

“A briar rose,” Maleficent said. “It survived in the Briar Marshes after a great battle. The last of its kind. It..." she touched a shimmering petal ever so gently, "It reminded me of you.” She looked to Aurora almost uncertainly before frowning in alarm. “Well, don’t cry!”

“Oh Maleficent!” Aurora threw her arms around the fairy then, hugging her tightly. “I love it!” She would never have let go, had Diaval not squawked loudly, causing Maleficent to say, “Oh, alright, and reach down gently scoop the flower from his beak before wiggling her fingers and turning him into a raven. He spluttered a few times, in a raven kind of way and flew off into the night. 

“Where shall we plant it?” Aurora asked. “Could we plant it right here? That way it will always remind me of this night.”

“If you like.” Maleficent knelt down and tenderly placed the flower at the mouth of the cave. A glowing golden light emanated from its base and it buried its roots in the ground.

“There,” she stood up and  brushed her dirt stained hands on her dress. “It’s as if it has always been here. Much like a certain beastie I know.”

Aurora’s lips pursed in amusement as she folded her arms over her chest. “Is that anyway to talk to your queen?”

“Forgive me, your majesty,” Maleficent bowed ostentatiously, her wings pulled back like a cape in the wind. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Around them, the night played its own sort of music. Different from the mud-bellies' lute, but just as sweet. And perhaps it was the music, or perhaps the sugary fragrance coming from the flower. Perhaps there was no reason other than the inevitability of time, and in the end, it didn't matter what prompted her to say,  “The flower is so very lovely. But you must know,” she felt braver in the dark of the night. She always felt braver in the dark with Maleficent. “You must know my truest gift is your return. There were times when I wondered if you’d forgotten about us.”

“I could never.” Maleficent stared at her intently. “This is my home. The fairies. The Moors.” She looked from the flower back to Aurora. “And you, sweet girl.”

Aurora smiled then, because she was no longer afraid. Because Diaval’s words no longer confused her, because all the answers to all the questions were right there, staring at her a little uncertainly.

“Then I have a gift for you,” she said, and Maleficent lips quirked up in curiosity.

“What gift?”

“My heart.” She took a step forward, and thought it might be the first time she had ever seen Maleficent look afraid. Even when she was trapped under iron, in room full of fire and dragons and sharp points, she had not looked so utterly terrified.

“Aurora-”

She put a finger to her fairy’s lips for a second, “I’m reminded of something Thistlewit once told me.”

And Maleficent scoffed lightly, “I hardly advise listening to Thistle halfwit.”

“She said,” Aurora continued, “that some things just aren't meant to be. But I have come to learn that some things,” she laid a hand against Maleficent’s cheek and smiled brightly. “Some things are.”

**~**

Aurora was twenty-one when she realised she had fallen in love.

Though “fallen” might be an inaccurate term, she thought, as they soared high into the clouds.


End file.
